Chapter 15
Fifteen
Cretia clapped a hand over her mouth, and she couldn’t even blink under Finn’s intense glance.
“Saved you? From what?”
She shook her head hard, wishing the words back where they’d come from. Wishing she could follow right behind them. Back to nothingness. Certainly back to before she’d admitted the truth, spilled it out so casually.
“Cretia? You can tell me. You don’t have to—I won’t—”
Judge her?
He couldn’t promise that until he knew the whole truth. And then it would be more than a little bit hard not to. Everyone did.
If it wasn’t judgment, it was pity. Every time. The school counselors. The man from Child Protective Services. Her teachers. Always with the same look in their eyes. Confusion. Horror. Pity.
God knew she didn’t need it. She’d spent too many years feeling sorry for herself. And she wasn’t going back to that.
She chose every day not to live that life—the one where she was the victim. And the one where she turned into her mother. She supposed her mom was a victim in her own right, a victim of her own making and her own mental illness.
Cretia refused to be either, let alone both.
And she wasn’t going to let Finn feel sorry for her. Not when she had a good life. A full life. Even if she didn’t have a full house.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Pursing his lips to the side, he nodded slowly. “All right. How about we stop at Kildare Capes and walk a little bit?”
“Sure. Yeah.”
She didn’t know what she was agreeing to, but she wouldn’t pass up a moment to catch her breath, to set down the memories that clouded her mind.
Within minutes, he’d parked his old pickup—the army-green one that looked like it belonged in one of those World War II movies—in a little pull-off big enough for just one vehicle. She hopped out as soon as he stopped, closing the door behind her. The sound immediately disappeared, replaced by the clapping waves nearby and the call of the birds. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she inhaled the smell of lush grass and open water, sunshine and serenity.
“Come on.” Finn had rounded the hood of the truck and reached out for her hand. She paused for a split second before sliding her palm against his and letting him lead her across the pale sand toward the shore. The call of the wind and the waves revealed exactly where they were headed, and yet when they arrived on the beach, she realized she hadn’t had any idea.
It was a small beach, just a little scrap of rich sand tucked between towering walls of red earth. Uneven and messy, they curved and jutted into the water. The beach disappeared and there were only red-rock walls meeting the blue waves, natural sculptures that no artist could compete with. Only the sounds of peace and the smell of earth and sky and a tiny bit of heaven between them.
“What is this place?” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand, his fingers strong but gentle. “This is my home.”
He had the same strength as these walls that withstood the endless waves, the same refusal to back down or back away. The same beauty too.
Which was absolutely ridiculous because Finn was not beautiful. He was ... Finn. He was handsome and rugged and kind and loyal and protective. He was not beautiful. But he and the island were the same. The iron that made the shores red ran through his veins too. And the gentle heart of the land was the same one that beat inside him.
Cretia stopped walking, tugging on his hand so he stayed by her side. “Finn?”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you bring me here?”
“I thought you might like to get some content . And...” He paused, stepping to face her. She had to look up to meet his eyes, and his gaze searched hers like he was reading a map for the first time. Shivers raced down her bare arms, nearly breaking their hands apart. But he held fast.
“This is one of the most beautiful places on the island—one of my favorites anyway. And I wanted you to see it.”
“Because...”
“Because even if you’re only here for a little while, I don’t want to hold anything back. I don’t want to miss a chance to share something great with you. To show you how great it could be.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs, painful and ecstatic at the same time. He wasn’t talking about a slice of coastline on the north shore or a beautiful spring morning. He was talking about sharing something real. Something powerful. Between them.
He dragged his fingers from her shoulder to her elbow, a whisper of a touch that left fire in its path. She gasped and closed her eyes, wanting only to know the feel of him against her skin. Everything else disappeared. The beauty of creation vanished until there was only her and Finn. And maybe God had created them to be in this very moment.
His hand traveled back up her arm, but he didn’t stop at her shoulder, his fingers walking over to her neck and dancing up to her jaw. Her stomach swooped like the birds on the ocean wind, and she leaned toward him, grabbing on to the front of his shirt. She had to or she would fall over completely.
Finn’s muscles tightened just beyond her knuckles, his breathing above her head soft and erratic.
She was playing with fire. And well aware of it.
He was never going to leave the island, and she wasn’t going to stay. But she would always wonder if she walked away in this moment.
Regret was a vicious master. And she refused to let it taunt her. She’d rather know than be left to imagine. Memories were better than remorse.
Licking her lips with the tip of her tongue, she leaned into his warmth, into his strength. His arms wrapped around her waist, tucking her against him. She pressed an ear to his chest and listened to his pounding heart.
“I don’t know why I’m nervous,” he whispered, though he didn’t make a move to let her go. He quickly followed that with a self-deprecating chuckle. “That probably should have been inside processing.”
“I am too.” She couldn’t explain why she also admitted it. But it had been nearly ten years since she’d been kissed. And she’d been held this close by a man exactly never before.
Risking a glance up into his face, she met his gaze. His eyes were intense, but his face held the same kindness she’d known since he’d swooped in to rescue her. He captured a few strands of her hair that had been blown free by the wind and tucked them into place, his fingers brushing against her ear and melting something deep inside her chest.
“Is it okay if I kiss you now?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“Ha. I’m not sure if I am. I just know that I can’t not.”
Nibbling on the corner of her lip, she said, “I know exactly what you mean.”
Apparently that was all the invitation he needed to close the distance between them, pressing his mouth to hers. His lips were tentative at first, as though those nerves he’d mentioned were taking the lead.
But after a moment, he sighed into her, all hesitancy abandoned.
She sank against him, every inch, from her toes to the top of her head, tingling like she’d been dunked in a seltzer bath. Only sweeter and stronger.
Letting go of his shirt, she grabbed his shoulders, then the back of his neck and his chin, running her fingers across the stubble on his face. She couldn’t get enough of the stiff texture against her hands, fascinated by the way it changed as she shifted directions. A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t smile. He only groaned. Kind of the way Joe Jr. did when she scratched him behind the ears.
Which made her wonder if Finn liked to have his head scratched too.
Releasing his chin, she sank her fingers into his butter-soft hair and ran her nails along his scalp. Finn nearly melted into her as he released a low sigh. It was a sound of pleasure, of stress leaving the body. So she did it again.
This time, his muscles went taut, his arms cinching around her and picking her up off her feet. He shifted his head for a better angle and kissed her harder, hungrier. Like a man who had been starving. Like he had no intention of ever being hungry again.
And in the moment, she refused to think about what that meant.
She could only give what he was taking and take what he offered. Which was all of himself. He poured out his whole heart and held nothing back.
When he finally set her down into the shifting sand and pulled away, he let out a stuttering breath. She was somehow both empty and utterly full.
Finn bent his finger, running a knuckle across her highly sensitive cheek. “Cretia.” He whispered her name, almost like a prayer. Like he was praying for her.
No one had ever prayed for her. At least not to her knowledge. Her mom had watched her prayers as she knelt by her bed in those early years. Before. Before the illness had taken over. Before her mom’s mind had become as cluttered as their home. Before the piles had threatened more than their sanity.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the day at the harbor. Since the moment I picked you up and carried you to the inn.”
She didn’t know how she could be full and somehow accept more, but she did. Her cup overflowing. Too many emotions to name, and all of them centered on the man before her. The one she should never have met. The one who was rapidly becoming far too important.
Then he uttered three little words that flushed out everything he had poured into her. “You could stay.”
She shook her head, unable to meet his gaze, unable to stop the trembling in her hands. “I can’t. I won’t be like her.”
“Like who?” He reached for her arm but she stumbled back, her eyes locked on a blue shell poking out of the sand.
Lips twitching and chin jerking, she let out a soft sigh. “I can’t be her.”
Matching her retreating steps, he tangled their fingers together and pulled her back into his embrace. “You don’t have to be anyone but you.”
Her eyes drifted shut. She was warm. She was protected. She was safe.
And suddenly there was nothing to hold back the truth.
“I had to leave my home.”
“What?”
“That’s how I became a content creator. I had to leave. I didn’t know we were different when I was a little kid. I didn’t realize that other people lived differently.”
He nodded slowly into the crown of her head, his arms squeezing slightly.
“I guess I remember there being a time when things were normal. My abuelita lived with us when I was young, and as long as she was there, she kept after my mom, kept up with her. But she died when I was seven, and after that, my mom gave up. I think she’d lost too many things. Her dad was killed in a car accident when she was young. My dad was her high school boyfriend, and he took off when he found out she was pregnant. And then after her mom...”
Cretia tried not to picture the first stacks of magazines she remembered or the trash bags that began to pile up.
Finn smoothed down her hair, cradling her head against him. “Did she hurt you?”
“No. Not like that. Not like you mean.” Her stuttered breath released slowly. “She loved me. She just couldn’t let go of anything else after that. So she didn’t. She kept everything. Every piece of junk mail. Every store receipt. Every piece of clothing that I outgrew. She kept it all. Piles and piles of stuff. Everywhere. I tried to throw things away. I filled up the garbage bin and wheeled it to the curb before I got on the school bus. It was bigger than I was, but I had to do something. When I got home, she screamed at me. How could I have done something so cruel to her? How could I have thrown away the only things she loved?”
Finn took a deep breath above her ear. “What did you throw away?”
“Some catalogs and a few pairs of my abuelita’s shoes. They were so worn, and they had holes in them, and no one was ever going to be able to use them. They had been in the back of the closet. But ... the truth is, I don’t even think she knew what I had thrown out. Only that the trash bin had been at the curb when she got up. After that, I couldn’t risk it. Mom was the only person I had. And one day, it just took over the house. I don’t remember when exactly. Maybe it came on slowly. I just remember waking up on the couch one morning during my senior year of high school—my room was filled from floor to ceiling with stuff—and I couldn’t find a path to the kitchen. I could feel the bugs crawling on me, but I couldn’t smell the stench of trash anymore. I’d become immune to it.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, a feeble attempt to ward off the memories that came flooding back in full Technicolor along with every sound and smell.
“And no one ever noticed?”
“Oh, they noticed. A few teachers took note in junior high when I didn’t have basic personal hygiene. They called Child Protective Services. Those who visited the house were horrified. But my mom swore she’d get the house cleaned up. They’d just stopped by on an off day. We were organizing.”
Cretia wasn’t sure she could handle a look of pity from Finn, but she risked a glance at his face anyway. She didn’t find condescension there. Instead, his eyes were filled with genuine sorrow.
“The truth is, I didn’t know if I could leave my mom. I just knew I couldn’t live like that anymore.” Even in his embrace, she managed to shrug. “I had been babysitting for a couple of kids off and on, and I asked their mom if I could stay with them. Just until I finished school.”
“So how did you end up with no permanent home?”
“After high school I started nannying for a rich family. They were both doctors and needed live-in help with their two kids. A few years later, they asked me to go on a cruise with them. That’s when I shot my first travel videos. Those early ones were tips for making the most of a cruise. I called them ‘Cruising with Cretia.’ Within a year, I’d earned enough to fund more trips. And more videos. My reach kept growing, and the rest is history.”
“And that’s how they saved you.”
She nodded.
“Where’s your mom now?”
“Still in the same house as far as I know. I call to check on her every now and then.”
“But you haven’t seen her since you moved out?”
She would do anything to block out that memory, but the painful twist in her gut wouldn’t let her. Instead of going down that trail, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone. “I guess I should get some video before we have to leave to pick up your cow.”